


In Your Eyes

by retrovertigo (ellameno)



Series: The Great Fire [10]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Arguing, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Banter, Battle Couple, Bonding, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I swear there's some plot being set up here, I will feex the canon, Injury, Introspection, Kindred Spirits, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 15:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11854701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellameno/pseuds/retrovertigo
Summary: The ever dedicated detective always watches his partner's back. This time something else might be watching too.





	In Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Boy howdy I had quite a month which involved surviving a heatwave, getting sick from forest fire smoke, and submitting some original work for an anthology. Wanted to get this up before I had to focus on PAX prep. I'd like to thank TCM's amazing summer lineup of movies, and I'm hoping like the 10 film noirs I watched helped my writing.
> 
> Another warning for vague descriptions of an injury. It's the wasteland, yawl.

         Nick Valentine was a detective, not a clairvoyant. And yet the biggest test of his deductive skills was predicting where his friend Nora's head would be on any given day, at any given time. A victim of circumstance himself, he’d been in those shoes on countless occasions: stumbling across sights that stirred up all kinds of unexpected memories from the old Nick’s life; past associations, bringing with them a flash of Jenny’s face or the distant voice of his mother. The _real Nick’s_ mother, he reminded himself each time; _things_ built on assembly lines have no parentage.

         Despite the memories of a Chicagoan hardwired into his mind, the synth had grown savvy to the safe alleys and shortcuts of this crumbling city after its fall. But Boston had been _Nora’s_ home turf once upon a time; she’d known it back in its glory. Patronized that corner store, had anniversary dinner at that bistro, birthed her son in that hospital… Nick could see the light come and go from her eyes as she grew giddy with recognition, then distressed by grief.

         Often it resulted in Nick feeling as though he was literally pulling her from the loss and into an embrace, repeating a mantra of “I know... _I know._ ” as he cautiously pet her hair. On rougher days, Nora clung tight to his coat as he helped her breathe through it, and now and then he even felt her heart racing in her chest like a frightened rabbit.

         In these past months, he gave out more hugs than he had in perhaps decades. Rarely did he offer them, as even grateful clients kept their distance from the mechanical man. But Nora practically ran to him. The pre-war Nick was a confessed ‘hugger’ and, though the factors that brought Nora to his arms saddened him, it was a relief to feel an embrace again. He was thankful that someone didn’t shirk away from his touch when even he had reservations about it.

         Today Nora was in his arms yet again, amidst a dusty restaurant with a semi-collapsing roof, its colorful wall and floor tiles peeking out from under the decay. This would have been a festive, happy place, which made everything about its decrepit state eerier.

         “I sat right there…” Nora said, voice trembling. “Right there when we told everyone we were expecting.”

         “You... wanna get out of here?” Nick murmured against the top of her head.

         “No… Not yet. I knew this was-- I didn’t expect to have this reaction.” She pulled away and straightened up. “We came in here for a reason.”

         “Rations are not important enough for this kind of emotional distress. We can always go somewhere else.”

         She popped a piece of gum in her mouth and chewed with purpose for a moment. “That’s not the only reason why I came in here.”

         “Oh?” he queried.

         “All through my pregnancy I was craving margaritas from our favorite restaurant.”

         “ _Oh?”_ he repeated, with disgruntlement this time.

         “I never had a chance to get one… I wanted to see if they had the mix recipe stored in the back,” she said sheepishly. Nick crossed his arms and sighed. “Are you mad?” she asked.

         “Why would I be mad-- look, I just don’t understand why you’d willingly subject yourself to--”

         “I just wanted something nice and nostalgic-- I didn’t think this was gonna mess me up…”

         “Alright, well… next time you decide to give chase to a craving, why don’t you let me in on it so I can get it for ya. Save you from… getting all spun.”

         “I thought you’d just make fun of me if I asked.”

         “Well, _of course_ I would,” he teased gently, eliciting a soft laugh from her. “But I’d still help out.”

         “I need comfort food, Nick. A pre-war person can only go so long on boiled veggies and stale TV dinners.” She glanced up at him. “Pre-war human, I mean-- um, pre-war _organic_ \--”

         “I get it,” Nick replied with a smile. “Don’t you worry about _lexical semantics_ with me, dear. I know where your heart is. Now, c’mon, let’s swipe you some secret recipes.”

         ---

         After sifting through fallen ceiling tiles and righting toppled file cabinets, Nora unearthed what she quested for: a staplebound pamphlet, pages slightly water-damaged and nibbled at. She tucked the spoils away gingerly like some holy scroll.

         Her gaze met Nick’s bemused stare.

         “They’re the family’s recipes,” she informed. “Cravings aside, I think it’s important to preserve them. I knew them, I… I think it’s what they’d want.”

         It was odd to say he admired Nora’s sentimentality for the old world, something the pre-war ghouls regarded with disdain, feeling it shackled them to a past they could never return to. This meant Nick often felt alone in his emotional attachment to the era he’d ‘woken up’ from. Nora shared his values: his desire to conserve little bits of history, of their culture, of people’s hopes and dreams they could no longer see through. There was a lot of evil in their day, but there was also so much _good_ that didn’t deserve to perish along with it.

         “That’s sweet, kiddo,” he said with tender sincerity.

         Nora shrugged and snapped her gum. She examined a can. “Is this still good?”

         “I haven’t seen anyone die of canned food poisoning, so my money’s on ‘yes’.” He picked one up as well. The label had largely peeled off but he could make out that it was most likely green chiles.

         “Well, we'll find out.”

         “Remember when the new preservation tech came out and they said it’d stay good for centuries? Truth in advertising for once.” Nick chuckled. “Though, how would they know?”

         Nora gave a feeble smile and began rooting around for more provisions.

         Maybe he’d used the wrong words, was on the wrong track. While a good dose of nostalgia could be the perfect shot in the arm, the sheer amount of time that had passed was often a hard pill to swallow.

         “Nick, will you carry these home for me?” she asked with a stack of canned goods up to her chin. “Please?”

         “What am I, your pack mule?” he razzed.

         “Yes,” she replied in a small voice that made him laugh.

         “Oh, alright.” He gave a theatrical sigh. “Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

         ---

         The pair regrouped with their four-legged friend loyally awaiting them on the sidewalk. They’d begun bringing Dogmeat along for salvage errands as he was quick to sniff out danger, but also partially because Nora hoped somehow the pup would stumble back upon Kellog’s scent trail. Dogmeat seemed to sense her unease, circling around her with a swishing tail. She patted his head but didn’t share his enthusiasm.

         They traveled until Nora’s stomach started to growl. The gal who’d never turn down a meal payed it no mind. _Concerning,_ Nick thought as he called for a mandatory break. He scoped out the optimal site, far away from any more memory triggers and somewhere a wily person or creature couldn’t get the drop on them.

         Spring zephyrs hissed through the wild razorgrain as they rested. Dogmeat snapped at the wafting pollen in the air as if itching for a fight. By contrast, Nora remained oddly quiet. No wisecracks, no nostalgia trips, no fond cooing over her canine companion. Nick glanced up from cleaning their weapons.

         He had learned the signs of when she started getting in her head… staring off into space or snapping her gum over and over. And the typically ravenous woman eating her plate of beans one at a time was a major red flag. Something was still gnawing at her today, hours after dragging her away from it. Perhaps the territory they’d explored was much too sentimental.

         “Say, uh, how far away are we from the main highway?” Nick asked, in an attempt to distract her.

         She slowly set her plate on her lap and fussed with the dials on her wrist. “Mmmn, about ten miles. Give or take. Looks like there’s actually another road that doesn’t wind as much...” she replied softly.

         “That so? Never knew that. Wish I’d picked me up one of those PipBoys, would’ve saved decades of trouble.”

         Her eyes flashed at him. “Are you just keeping me around to be your GPS?”

         “Oh… y’know.” Nick gave a playful shrug.

         The corners of her mouth twitched with the tease of a smile. The light gradually returned to her big brown eyes. He felt their warmth, and a fuzzy sensation of static.

         She began taking heaping spoonfuls, indicating he was on the right track.

         ---

         Sitting in the wilds too long made Nick antsy. The bot often fussed over his human comrades, attributing every complaint or ailment to them simply not taking enough care, but the transition to having a traveling partner was still slow to take. Nick had a goal oriented mind and it threw off his forward momentum to set aside time for what felt like feeding and watering his shadow. Usually he could stave it off, his concern for Nora’s constitution outweighing his restlessness, but lately he’d been experiencing a bristling on the back of his neck like eyes bore into it.

         Once he deemed Nora adequately fed, he ushered his two companions onto the shortcut she had suggested.

         “Where to now?” Nick asked as the road began to fork.

         “Hold on,” Nora muttered. The sound of rustling through her pack made him swing around. She pulled out the PipBoy and studied it. “Keep left--”

         “The hell, kid, why aren’t you wearing it on your arm?”

         “They feel so heavy after moving all that stuff,” Nora said, lifting her arms and dropping them to her side repeatedly.

         “You really should save your workouts for home. If we get in a firefight and you can’t hold your rifle steady--”

         “I know, I know.” Nora waved her hand lazily. “But there’s no raiders out here. Nothing to raid.”

         “Don’t get--” Nick started but Nora gave a large yawn. “-- _complacent_.”

         “I’m not.”

         “I beg to differ,” he replied with authority.

         “They use dead bodies as decor. It’s not like you can’t smell them a mile away.”

         “Yeah, sometimes.” He found her sudden lack of vigilance irritating. “I’m just gonna say it: you don’t have the best perceptive skills.”

         “Well that doesn’t make me _complacent_.”

         “And also, you’re yawning while I’m talking to you, it’s rude.”

         “ _Rude?_ I just ate, and I did a lot today. I’m tired, it’s not like you’re _boring_ me.”

         “So then why are we on the road if you’re too tired?” he asked exasperatedly.

         “Because _you said_ we should be. And I’m not _too_ tired, just tired.”

         “Well, either way, _buck up_ a bit.” His eyes darted around, feeling like he had to mentally work overtime.

         “Buck up?” she balked.

         “Yeah. Get your weapon out, look sharp, and stop treatin’ this like a game,” he said pointedly.

         “Why are you being like this?”

         “Listen, I’m the veteran here. I’ve lived out here nearly twice as long as you’ve been alive--”

         “So does that mean you know more than me?”

         “In some ways, yeah. I do.”

         “Fine. You’re the veteran, what do I know?”

         “Now why are _you_ being like that--”

         “You're patronizing me,” she said fiercely. Dogmeat gave a nervous bark, upset by the tension between his people. Nick stopped in his tracks, realizing that was exactly what he’d done. “I know I'm green, and I can be impulsive, but I'm not a kid.”

         Nora suddenly seemed older too. He could see the bags under her tired eyes and the lines furrowed in her forehead as she stared him down. “I-I know--”

         “People have patronized me all my life. And maybe at one time I deserved it, but still it just kept happening. But I’m an adult. I'm a lawyer, I'm a wife, I'm…” The fire extinguished and was replaced by tears. “I'm a mom.”

         Guilt struck him like lightning. “I'm sorry. I'm used to the young folks out here being stupid on purpose.”

         “So I'm just stupid on accident.”

         “That's not what I mean.”

         Somehow he had fallen into his old mindset. Back when he ran with Marty verbal sparring matches were common, getting heated and personal. By nature Nick was critical, of others and himself, and after decades of giving back what bigots dished out, he could cut deep with his words. On top of it, he had one colleague dead and another disabled with a permanent injury after not heeding Nick’s warnings. He was determined not to lose a third.

         “OK, I’m sorry I overworked myself today, OK?” she sniffed and wiped away a tear. “I’m still trying to adjust-- I’m- I’m sorry if I’m a bad traveling partner--”

         “Hey, look at me,” Nick softly urged. “I run with you for a reason. I just want you to be safe. Not because I don’t think you’re capable, but because I… _you know_ \-- I-- I hate when you get hurt.”

         “I learned a lesson today already,” she replied. “I’m not as emotionally healed as I thought I was.”

         “Well _of course_ you’re not.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I know how bad loss is, believe me. I had to get checked in for PTSD, y’know, that’s why I’m even here. Everything _you’re_ going through? Heck, you probably have more trauma than me.”

         She shook her head. “No, I think you have it worse.”

         “I’m not trying to turn this into a competition; I’m just sayin’... it’s gonna be tough… so stop poking at the wound. I’ve made that mistake before.” Nora nodded but said nothing. “You wanna give me that PipBoy for a spell?” Nick asked. “We’ll switch roles; you keep your eyes peeled and I’ll do the navigating.”

         “OK,” she said weakly and handed it over.

         Nick fastened the device around his arm. It wasn’t as heavy as he expected, but then again he had synth strength. He flipped through the settings searching for the map. The flatline on the vital signs tracker sent an existential jolt through him for a second, before the bot told himself off for being silly. Of course he had none.

         That still didn’t make the reality any easier to digest.

         “C’mon, let’s move before we lose time,” he said, trying to drag himself away from his inferiority complexes.

         ---

         After a prolonged silence and some fast-footed travel, Nora mumbled something.

          “What was that?” Nick asked.

         “I said my arms feel better.”

         “Well… that’s good,” he said lightly, stopping to return the PipBoy to her wrist.

         He surveyed the landscape. To the left, a paved slope that turned into a cliff-face, with farmhouses scattered atop it. Part of him swore he saw movement but perhaps it was a glint of the sun on broken glass, or even more likely a buzzard. To the right descended another eroded hill that gradually became grasslands.

         “If we cut through that neighborhood, we can cut down our time,” Nora said peering at the map again.

         Nick made a disagreeing noise. “We should make our way down and take a wide berth around it instead…”

         “I think it’d be better to use the high road as it is.”

         “I dunno, I just have a funny feeling about those houses. Like we’re being watched.”

         “That’s called paranoia.”

         “Well, you never know,” Nick replied defensively.

         “We have Dogmeat; he can smell danger.”

         “It’d… it’d just make _me_ feel better. I get… anxious.”

         Her expression softened. “Alright.”

         “It’s not that I think you’re objectively wrong, it’s that… I want to be at _my_ best. My eyes are pretty damn good for distance, but they can’t see through walls.”

         “OK.” She nodded. “You’ve got a point.”

         “Sorry. Sorry for talkin’ down and getting so curt.”

         “I was being stubborn,” she said, squinting. “I warned you about that.”

         “Yeah, you did. And I said I could be bossy.”

         “Well you are my boss.”

         “No I’m not. We’re partners. It’s different.”

         She smiled. The life in her eyes was bleary, but returning.

         He remembered something Nick’s mother said during her second marriage: it’s not about whether you fight, it’s about how you resolve things. Maybe it was ironic using marital advice with Nora, especially with the poetic confluence of their names, but then again… how many people could the synth say he ever spent so much time with?

         Dogmeat sniffed the air. Motion caught Nick’s eye again: three large masses above the ground, taking an irregular path.

         “Hmm… see that?” Nick asked.

         “Huh?” Nora used her hand as a visor.

         “Movement. Bugs.”

         “Ugh. I used to eat those.” She made a retching noise.

         “Feel lucky I can’t eat. The idea of a bloatfly steak makes my stomach turn-- and I don’t got one.”

         Nora laughed. “Let’s just avoid them. Gunfire carries over the plains.” She gave him a look that said ‘ _See? I’m smart too’._

         “You ready if one chases us?”

         “Even if I wasn’t, they’re small fry compared to what we take on,” she said lifting her chin.

         “Fair point, though the guts ain’t such a cinch to clean off.”

         ---

         Unfortunately, today’s monsters were out for blood. Nora took down the first bug with no lick of trouble. Being the biggest and meanest looking of the trio just made it a easier target. Witnessing this effortless defeat, the second insect deemed her a larger threat and fled for Nick instead.

         It dashed behind him and Nick followed, his aim steady despite its erratic flying. His computerized mind was not one to get tripped up by evasive maneuvers, all he had to do was wait till it lined up with his shot… and... _bullseye_.

         “Two down and--”

         Nora screamed, earsplitting and primal. He swung around in shock. She knelt on the dirt, face in her hands, making horrible noises like a wounded animal. Though the third massive mutant bug was within an inch of its life, spilling bile-like fluids from its mortally injured body, it stayed persistent. Dogmeat leapt and nipped at its legs. It clumsily darted to the side before taking a wide turn and making a route straight for Nora.

         A frenzy erupted in Nick’s wires. He stepped into its path and unloaded an entire cylinder into the insect, still firing even while it crumpled on the ground, its legs kicking. He knew it was overkill, but the bristling rage he felt...

         Nora made another pained sob and he snapped back into focus. He dropped down beside her, confused but expecting the worst.

         “What happened? What’s wrong?” he asked frantically. He’d never seen her in such hysterics. Nick could feel the sheer panic of it all depleting his remaining coolant.

         Nora took her hands from her face. She sobbed gooey tears, her eyes shut tight as if glued. Thankfully it wasn’t a more serious wound-- but he stupidly had never considered the effects of mutant fluids on human bodies.

         “Here, lie down I’ll try to flush it out or something--” Nora continued flailing her arms. “Stop squirming, hun, please I know it hurts-- I’m trying here--” Nick held one of her wrists and eased it towards the ground. “Stay still, _please_.”

         Nora groaned his name as she wept, like it was the only coherent thought she had through the overwhelming pain. He forced her head to the side as he poured water over her eyes, praying it was just an acidic splash of irritants and not something more damaging.

         “Are you alright down there?” a male voice echoed.

          Nick whipped around. A figure stood atop the rocky incline about thirty feet away. Nick knew he should draw his gun but like an ass he’d used the whole clip in his fury. There was no time to reload without opening them up to attack. But then Nick’s keen eyes realized the man with higher ground didn’t even have a weapon out.

         This could be a trap, but despite all his better judgement he shouted:

         “She’s hurt!”

         The man swiftly made his way down the hill, supplies clattering on his back as he took each rough step. Dogmeat growled but stopped abruptly, almost vetting the man as a non-threat. Or so the detective hoped. As he neared, Nick saw that the man wore a gas mask that covered his head completely, as well as a brown leather reinforced coat that was much too bulky for this season.

         The stranger dropped his pack and knelt down beside Nick and the whimpering Nora on the ground.

         “What happened?” he asked calmly, his voice still distorted through the mask. He had an imposing appearance, but his demeanor spoke volumes.

         “I dunno--” Nick started. “I don’t know if it spit something or if it’s blood--”

         The man glanced over to the twitching bug corpse. “Yeah, bug blood, that’s nasty stuff, pal. Try to aim for the wings next time.”

         “You seem so casual--”

          “It’s not as dire as you think. It hurts like hell but as long as we get her treatment she’s probably not gonna lose her vision--”

         “ _Probably?_ ” Nora whined.

         “I know a guy--”

         “You’re gonna _take us_ somewhere?” Nick asked skeptically. He was wary of highwaymen, though usually they waited for kind samaritans, rather than masqueraded as them.

         “It’s a really small settlement about an hour’s walk from here. He’s a medic, but he also does eye-stuff. Got me a pair of prescriptions.”

         “Well, that’s convenient,” Nick replied not hiding the suspicion in his voice.

         “It pays to know your neighbors. Keeps you alive.”

         Nick wanted to take the man’s word for it, to fix his friend and partner-- if she wound up blinded it would be like Kenji and his hip again. There would be no more cases, no more adventures for Nick and Nora... an agonizing concept. But if he learned one thing out here, it was never to follow a scavver to a second location.

         He looked down at Nora who still had her eyes screwed shut, her eyelids red and swollen and traces of green ooze on her cheeks.

         “What do you think, kid?” Nick asked her.

         “I wanna go with him,” she answered.

         “Alright,” Nick conceded. It was her body on the line and, though he swore to watch over her, it was up to her the risks she wanted to take.

         The man grabbed Nora under the arm. Protectiveness surged through Nick’s circuits and he latched onto her other one. He didn’t know this man, or his intent, or where the hell he even came from. _Who was he to touch her?_ Once they brought her upright, Nick pushed himself between the two, securing his arm around Nora to guide her and keep the other man at a safe distance. Dogmeat continued sniffing the stranger as if questioning who this was manhandling his mistress.

         “It’s this way,” the man said, seemingly unfazed by Nick all but pushing him away.

         After Nick helped her change out of yet another soiled shirt and into a clean jacket -- averting his gaze whilst making sure the stranger didn’t dare peep -- Nora walked blindly, clinging to the detective. The three of them traveled at a brisk pace and without conversation, and though she moaned every so often, the worst of it seemed to be behind her.

         “You rubbed your eyes, didn’t you?” the man scrutinized.

         “Of course I did. It’s a reflex,” Nora countered under her breath.

         “Don’t scold her,” Nick interjected, “she did nothing wrong.”

         “Scolding me is _his_ job.”

         “Well…” Nick gave a tepid chortle. At least she was in a mind to make jokes.

         “I’m sorry, just next time don’t mess with it.”

         “What are you doing here anyway?” Nick interrogated.

         “I heard screaming and a dog barking and gunfire.”

         “And you ran towards it?” Nick balked.

         “Well, it’s pretty quiet around these parts, so I figured someone needed help.”

         It was a realistic answer, but the veteran cop in him found something to be off.

         ---

         The stranger wasn’t kidding about the diminutive size of the settlement. It appeared to be built in the parking lot of a retail center, surrounded by a barrier of overturned cars. In order to thrive in such a small space with no real agriculture, there must have been some sort of financial draw. Selling salvage perhaps? The man lead them to a building which, judging from the lopsided lettering, apparently happened to be an optometrist's office back in the day. His buzzing nerves quelled. That was… a good sign. No pun intended.

         Nora trembled slightly. Nick leaned down to her ear. “I think it’s safe, hun.”

         “That’s not my issue,” she breathed.

         Their guide knocked on the door in an erratic syncopation. It opened just enough for a bespectacled man to peer out.

         “Listen, I told you I'm not-- oh.”

         “Hola, compadre.”

         “Hey. You uhhhh…” His eyes darted to Nick. “You got a package for me?”

         “I'm not here on business, pal. I've got a lady with bug blood in her eyes.”

         “ _Jesus_ , alright. Bring her in.”

         “Don’t say ‘Jesus’,” Nora moaned.

         “Sorry, you follow an old-time religion?” asked the doctor.

         “No, you’re just making me nervous.”

         “So Dr Lucas has like a super shitty bedside manner,” the wastelander explained.

         “I apologize, I just don’t get walk-ins often. I’m not an urgent care; I do eye exams and hearing aid fittings.”

         “Hearing aids?” Nora asked.

         “Yes, they’re these tiny things you--”

         “Don’t get off task, pal,” the man interrupted.

         “Right. Ma’am, if you’ll just follow…” Lucas gently clutched Nora’s arm. Nick took a step forward, but the other man put a hand on his shoulder.

         “She’s fine,” he said as Nora disappeared into the back. “What, you her keeper or something?”

         “I don’t know you. Or him. And this is all…” Nick trailed off and glanced over to Dogmeat sniffing around the waiting room lazily.

         “A bit on the shady side, I get it.”

         Nick stared him down with curiosity. “How come you ain't afraid of me?”

         “I don’t judge a book by its cover.”

         “Well, it’s more than that. You see a gal on the ground, shrieking like the devil's got ahold of her while a synth’s nearly pinning her down, and your first instinct isn't that I'm attacking her?”

         “I saw you pass earlier.”

         “Is that so?”

         “Yeah, the farmhouse up on the hill’s edge. That’s mine.”

         “Ah.” Nick felt a bit abashed for treating this good samaritan with such mistrust, but with Nora he just couldn’t allow himself to take a risk. She was becoming so dear to him. “And uh… the doctor wasn’t spooked either.”

         “I know you're smart. Hell, you're a detective, right? You know what's going on by now, don't you?”

         “Yeah. Yeah... I suppose I do.”

         A suspicion finally clicked; these weren't just ordinary wastelanders, they were synth sympathizers. He’d run into a few before. Some missing persons cases had culminated with him stumbling into a safe house full of cowering people, sometimes in dirty white uniforms, and usually begging for mercy convinced he intended to drag them back.

         “There's something familiar about you,” Nick said.

         “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

         Nick laughed. “Well, it could be the gas mask. Do you really never take that thing off?”

         “My Geiger counter is in the shop. I don’t want to risk it.”

         “I see.” That explained the heavy leather jacket too. “I guess paranoia is good for somethin’ out here.”

         “Damn straight.”

         Dogmeat sneezed and approached the man for head-pats.

         “I have to say I was afraid of you at first, but I misjudged you,” Nick admitted.

         “I don’t take it personally. You can never be too careful. I’m just glad I was near enough to help.” He got on one knee in front of the Shepherd. “ _Who's a good doggy? Yeah, you’re a good boy, aren’t you?_ ”

         “Well, damn, I feel like I owe you a drink or somethin’-- there a bar around here?”

         “Oh, nah, no drink-- I’m a bit of a straight-edge.”

         “If there’s anything I can do…”

         “I’m just happy I did my good deed to put in a good word with the Lord. And I got to pet a dog too.”

         “Uh-huh.” Nick had not an inkling where this wastelander procured such an old-time philosophy, but it certainly wasn’t the _most_ eccentric thing about him.

         He continued trying to make smalltalk with the masked man, but as the conversation went on the answers became increasingly bizarre and borderline inconsistent. Nick couldn’t determine if the guy was just messing with him or simply wasn’t _all there_. Whatever the case, his detective’s intuition was now telling him the man was an odd bird but harmless.

         “All done, it all checks out,” the doctor announced as they returned. Nora sported a pair of  classic horn-rimmed frames and her eyes looked less swollen too, just something akin to mild allergies.

         “Oh, thank God.” Nick put a hand over his ‘heart’ as if he’d feel it beating. Nora returned to his side like a magnet, obviously as relieved as him, if not more.

         “She'll need to wear them for a while,” Lucas continued. “I can't guarantee that her eyesight sans glasses will ever be 100% of what it was, but if it does fully recover then I'm sure these will make her vision even stronger.”

         “They feel so heavy,” Nora lamented, pushing them further up the bridge of her nose.

         “I think they’re very becoming. Now you definitely look law-school educated.”

         She laughed. “So a nerd.”

         “Yes,” Nick smirked.

         “Unfortunately, I’m fresh out of sunglasses, but I’d strongly advise she avoid looking at direct sunlight and rest her eyes with a cold compress.”

         “How much do we owe ya? Both of--” Nick turned around. “ _Oh_ , he’s... gone...”

         “Yeah, he does that. He doesn’t really uh, get involved personally, I guess you could say.”

         “He _seemed_ friendly enough. How strange.”

         “Bummer,” Nora sighed. “I would’ve liked to at least seen his face.”

         “Yeah, well, he didn’t take off his mask once.”

         “Yeah, he does that too…” Lucas said, shifting his weight as if tired of the subject. “Look uh, for the Sunco’s, treatment and exam I’ll round it down to thirty-five caps. I won’t charge you for time, just replacement costs.”

         “That’s awful generous.”

         “Well it’s an emergency, I don’t want to add insult to injury. And I suggest you wash the rest of that blood off you. If it drips in your eyes then you're in trouble all over again.”

         ---

         Lucas set them off toward an old trailer nestled in the back of the settlement. Somewhere the two and their dog could stay for free after using up their lodging allowance towards a pair of glasses.

         Nick sat in the doorway, half-chewing on his smouldering cigarette as Nora rinsed her hair in a metal bin outside. She’d changed into her Vault Suit and hung her once soiled clothes up to dry in the last rays of the day. The unzipped jumpsuit’s arms and torso draped around her waist, exposing a slightly sweaty undershirt and more of her skin than he was used to seeing. His eyes couldn’t help but study it as she leaned over the basin. Her muscles were becoming more defined, her skin a toasted hue, but also a worrisome collection of scars and bruises were beginning to form.

         “God, I’m sorry,” Nick sighed. “This is my fault.”

         “Why?” she asked, scrubbing the last bit of goo from her hair.

         “I was treating you like a child and if I just listened when you wanted to take the other road--”

         “It’s not like I knew a bug was gonna get the best of me if we didn’t.”

         Nora whipped her wet tresses back, her eyes still closed as she pulled the remainder of it into a hair-tie Ellie had woven for her. The gold wedding band she wore around her neck glimmered in the sun as it swung. The sentimental token could be seen as a literal example of how she remained chained to her past life. He wondered how long this would last, if she’d ever fully shed her bonds with the old world. If one day her late husband’s ring would no longer represent an inability to let go, but a loving memorial to a soul gone too soon. Nick would be a liar if he said he didn’t squirrel away a memento or two, pulling them out to either connect to his past identity or remind himself that the life wasn’t his to claim. It was... complicated.

         Nora hadn’t spent her whole life getting conditioned to the harsh perils out here, but she was clever enough to learn, and still young enough that time remained on her side. The woman could put on childlike airs but deep down she possessed an old soul. Even more than most Nick had met, like the term had been created for her. And there often was that look to her, as if she'd been thrown into the violent wilds and was shocked by her own moxie. Like she had no idea where this inner strength came from.

         Maybe it was all simply side-effects of her predicament, but still, Nick found it ever so appealing. Nora was a bright penny in a tarnished world, and he wanted to make sure she never lost her shine. She would have him on her side, watching her flourish, protecting her until the bittersweet day when she needed her detective no more.

         “I wish I had a mirror I could use to wash up with,” Nora said, dabbing her eyes with a dish towel.

         “Dogmeat can help ya.”

         The dozing Shepherd’s ears twitched.

         “ _No,_ ” she said flatly, then giggled.

         “Or you got me,” Nick offered.

         Nora mulled it over for a moment, before shuffling on her knees towards him. He stamped out the cigarette and met her halfway, kneeling in front of her as she handed him the cloth.

         “Well, guess ya needed an excuse for a scrub,” he teased, swabbing at her cheeks. “Look at you, you’ve got a layer of dirt already. Here I was thinkin’ you were getting real tanned.”

         “I _am_ getting tanned.”

         As he washed her face, each swipe of the cloth uncovered constellations. Nick wasn’t sure if they were getting darker or if he just had never been this close to her face.

         “There. That’s better,” he said after he’d cleaned most of it. “Now everyone can see ‘em.”

         “See what?”

         “Those pretty freckles of yours.”

         Her eyes grew large for a sliver of a second before responding with a bashful smile, as if the sentiment was foreign to her. She picked the glasses out of her pocket, weighing them in her hands. “Freckles along with these big glasses… now I’m _really_ gonna look like a dork.”

         “Y’know some people are into that.”

         “Who?”

         “I dunno. _People_.” He shrugged.

         “Like you?”

         Nick laughed. He’d always figured his heart belonged to the ‘femme fatales’, but upon further reflection, he wasn’t sure. He had a ‘love-hate’ relationship with them. He loved the ambition, their cunning... but hated the way they were treated, by characters and authors alike. Maybe he just stuck to those noir tropes he fancied, playing to type. It was a strange introspection to have, about something that hadn’t crossed his mind in a long time.

         But none of that mattered now; he was a robot.

         “We need to get that cold compress on your peepers, yeah?” Nick stood up, feeling the age in his stiff knees. “Doc’s orders.”

         She dropped her head back. “I don’t wanna go to bed.”

         “You don’t have to. Just lie down, I’ll put on some music for ya. Or you can listen to me apologize for two hours.”

         “Mmmn, I like the second one,” she chirped as she followed him into the trailer.

         Nora flopped onto an overly patched twin mattress and pulled the top of her jumpsuit back up. Nick’s gaze followed as her sleeve covered up the deep scar left in her shoulder. His non-existent stomach panged like a phantom limb.

         “One of these days you’re gonna figure out how to take advantage of me,” he bemoaned, then paused, regretting the words. “I-In battle, I mean. I’m mostly metal, I can take the brunt of it.”

         “I can tell you’ve taken too many brunts of it already.” She smiled, lying down.

         “Yeah, well, better me than you, doll.” He poured some of her canteen water onto the towel.

         “I guess you can afford a couple more dents, but I prefer men with facial features.”

         “Ah, so Hancock ain’t your type?” Nick asked as he laid the compress over her eyes.

         “He’s a special case. When you have that much charm you don’t need a face.”

         “Mmn, I see-- Wait, now are you’re saying I’m not charming?”

         She giggled in response.

         ---

         Nora softly sang along with a few of the songs, unconcerned by the notes she missed as if the darkness made her uninhibited. Nick enjoyed it greatly -- up until the music was interrupted by the static sounds of Travis’s anxiety riddled voice over the airwaves.

         “Ah, Travis, bless his heart,” Nick said half-sardonically. “Amazing how even out here everyone can still hear his neuroticism.”

         “Did you say eroticism?”

         “ _Never_.”

         “Never?” she laughed.

         He felt strangely self-conscious. “That funny to you?”

         “Just a funny way to phrase it.”

         “Don’t think the word’s ever left my mouth,” Nick said. As far as he could recall it was true, but he wasn’t sure why he chose to double down. She giggled again. “What?”

         “You’re just so defensive about it, like I’m gonna think less of you if you have,” Nora said. “That’s something I’ve noticed, we’re all adults here but you talk as if there’s kids in the room.”

         “That’s just how I talk.”

         “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it. It’s cute.”

         Normally he’d feel patronized, but it wasn’t like anyone had called him ‘cute’ lately. Nick let the word wash over him for a moment. Who knew when he’d ever hear it again?

         ---

         The sun lingered in the sky longer than expected, past the seventh hour and a sign the season was in full swing. He plucked her warm clothes from the top of the trailer and brought them inside, closing the rusty door behind him. It creaked sharply as it shut and Nick winced; if Nora had drifted off, the din surely would’ve woken her.

         “I’m cold,” she said with a frown, confirming his suspicions. “This compress is almost going through my bones. Can I have my jacket?”

         Nick tossed it to her as she sat up. She wrapped it tightly around herself and laid back down.

         “Ow-- the hell?” Nora propped herself up and patted at her side. “There’s something hard in my jacket…” She pulled out a holotape.

         “Why ya got a tape in there?”

         “It’s not mine.” She twisted it curiously with her fingers, then gave Nick a look. He understood and passed her the PipBoy, which she inserted the tape into with eagerness. The pair loved a good mystery.

         “ _Wake up, Commonwealth…”_ said the voice of a woman. “ _Synths are not your enemy. They are victims in this war, as well.”_

         Nick and Nora gazed at each other with mystified expressions as the woman continued explaining the plight of what she referred to as ‘slaves’, calling attention to their hopes and dreams in a quest for personhood. Though Nick was well aware these people existed, he still found himself captivated. He’d never heard them reach out in their own words before. It was, for lack of a better word, _touching_.

         “ _So join with us in fighting the real enemy: The Institute. Join the Railroad. When you're ready for that next step, don't worry, we'll find you.”_

         “And apparently they did,” Nick said, half jokingly. The whole thing left him awestruck yet a little perturbed, like being a part of a magic trick. “Maybe that Lucas fella slipped it in your pocket while you were blinded. Doctor wants to indoctrinate you.”

         She laughed. “What?”

         “Nothin’,” Nick mumbled. Though he questioned the sanity of any human willing to fall into the ranks.

         “The Railroad help synths, huh? It’s nice to know there’s still benevolent people out here.” She laid down and put a refreshed compress back over her eyes. “Almost makes me feel kind of selfish.”

         “Huh?”

         “Because I’m gonna take on the Institute for _revenge_.”

         “Well, y’know… nothin’ wrong with a little vengeance.”

         “What kind of cop are you?” she chortled.

         “That’s not the cop in me talkin’, believe me. It’s the synth who's been treated like dirt a few too many times.”

         “Well, here’s hoping these holotapes work and the world becomes kinder.”

         Nora blindly felt around with her hand. Nick watched, trying to deduce what her digits sought for, before realizing they were searching for _his_. His mind became sluggish as he tried to choose which one to give her-- _not the metal one of, course! The one that’s somewhat pleasant to touch._

         He reached out his left hand, having to lean forward at an awkward angle since it wasn’t the closest to her own. As her soft fingers brushed against his synthetic ones, she grabbed ahold and reassuringly ran her thumb along his marred skin. And for a strange moment Nick didn’t feel repulsive or ashamed. Of course, the flirting was just a game they played, but at the end of the day she wanted to hold his hand, and that alone meant the world.

         “That guy. I wish I could’ve thanked him...” she said sleepily after several minutes of silence.

         “Well… heck, let's pay him a visit tomorrow. How does that sound?”

         “Awesome.”

         She held firmly to his hand, and as time passed her grip grew more and more slack. Once certain sleep had overtaken her, Nick gently placed her hand over her chest. He watched her breathe for a few minutes, comforted by her presence and grateful she was still well, before blowing out the lamplight.

         ---

         “There it is, I see it,” Nick said, pointing. They’d backtracked to the clifftop neighborhood that had given him the willies once before. Less ominous now, though still eerily quiet.

         “Seems kind of… desolate for a farm.”

         “Well, when he said he was a farmer he never claimed to be a good one.”

         They kept a cautious distance at the picket fence that had mostly rotted away, as it’d be unwise to sneak up on a man who had admitted to paranoia.

         “Mister, uh…” Nick called but trailed off. He turned to Nora and muttered, “Say, did you catch his name?”

         “No. He didn’t introduce himself to you?”

         “No. Though I guess it was rude for me not to offer up mine.” He looked back at the house and cupped a hand. “It’s us, the folks from yesterday!”

         No response followed. They continued up the path through knee-high grass to the derelict porch, its rafters covered in cobwebs and windows caked with grime. Nick knocked on the peeling door.

         Nora wrinkled her nose. “Real dirty.”

         “Oh hush, don’t be rude.” Nick nudged her. “It’s the apocalypse.”

         He knocked again, and the door squeaked slightly. He pushed through.

         As the bright sunlight cast its rays into the darkened house, Nick noted the dust thick on the floor and plants growing up through the boards. Vines intertwined with the legs of the broken furniture, all but holding them in place. Dogmeat didn’t seem interested in any scents, likely a sign none were even there. By Nick’s calculations no one had lived here for at least a decade, if not several.

         He looked at Nora, and her knit brow told him the same thing was on her mind.

         “Good lord, who was that guy?”

         “I dunno.” She paused. “Let’s get out of here.”

         “Good thinkin’,” Nick quietly concurred.

         He ushered Nora out of the house with a protective urgency, his eyes searching for any signs of life outside. The sleuth didn’t suspect the stranger as one who would ambush them, but Nick’s own paranoias were creeping up.

         “If he doesn’t live here...” Nick mumbled, “and I felt like we were being watched...”

         “You don’t think he was following us _earlier_ too, do you?” She looked around. “Or _still_.”

         “It’s impossible to know for certain,” he answered, finding it damn clever for a tail to hide his identity behind a mask. Nora made a nervous noise. “Don’t worry, I don’t believe he means us any harm. But I can tell you one thing; this probably isn’t the last we’ve seen of those Railroad folks.”

**Author's Note:**

> I mean... I hope you can all guess who the mystery person was................ they're going to be Important.
> 
> And the next installment is one I'm super excited about and one I've been working on for a year and GOD I hope you like it lol. Hopefully I'll have it up mid-September WOW WHERE HAS THIS YEAR GONE.  
> Thanks to [seaweedredandbrown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/seaweedredandbrown/pseuds/seaweedredandbrown) and [Coldharbour](http://archiveofourown.org/users/coldharbour) for beta-reading.
> 
> As always thanks to everyone who leaves comments/feedback you are the sole thing keeping us fic writers sane and typing. Plugging [my main blog](http://television-for-dinner.tumblr.com/tagged/fic+stuff) and [my art/fanworks blog](http://tommytonebender.tumblr.com) here, if you haven't checked out my sidebars yet wink nudge.


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